


Keep Him Safe

by FlyMeAway, WreckAndRule



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Kid Fic, M/M, Post-SPECTRE, extremely minor child injury, non edible spy equipment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:08:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27478558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyMeAway/pseuds/FlyMeAway, https://archiveofourown.org/users/WreckAndRule/pseuds/WreckAndRule
Summary: Unintentional Babysitting.
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Comments: 26
Kudos: 78





	Keep Him Safe

**Author's Note:**

> For Kira_Katashi, and all the extremely nice community on the MI6 Cafe chat that inspired me to write it.

For a child born to a generation of smartphones and tablets, three-year-old Connor Tanner is a great fan of Q’s compact-sized far-range radio. In accordance with the boy’s wishes, Q plugs the earpiece in his small ear and talks to him through the comms as if he's a field agent, a job his father would never in a million years let him take up. Then, Q gives Conner the radio, and puts the earpiece in himself. Connor shouts and giggles into it, making Q's ears bleed.

That is, until he begins to chew on it.

“No, stop it. That’s very expensive Government-owned equipment and you’re treating it like 007 would.”

“I heard that, Q.” calls Bond from the other side of the yard, where he's playing football with Connor's older sister Natalie.

“Q!” Connor shouts in response; his voice covered by the static of the radio.

“Tell me about it.” agrees Bond, a moment before Nat steals the ball and drives it between his legs. He spins around immediately, Double-0 instincts coming to the fore, to steal it back before she beats him to the goal. 007, in suit pants and a t-shirt he'd stolen from Tanner, playing football with a seven-year-old (and apparently losing), is a sight Q is never going to erase from his mind.

Even if you'd have pointed a gun to his temple, Q wouldn’t have been able to tell you how they ended up here. Things were so complicated these days, trying to defeat the remains of SPECTRE, all of them working around the clock and around the world. And it was this last moment thing, with Tanner needing to fly out to the USA, his wife still deep undercover. He was scared for the kids, which was understandable, given the amount of death threats they were all getting on a daily basis. But it was nonetheless surprising when Bond said he’d look out for them while Bill was away.

There was supposed to be an _actual_ babysitter involved, but unfortunately, they found out he was an assassin sent for the kids. Luckily, Bond was quick on his feet, and had killed him fairly quickly before the kids had even woken up, with Q already halfway there.

Luckily, both of the children were blissfully ignorant of the situation, and Q tries really hard to not think about what's going on in Tanner’s mind, not only worried that they almost got his family, but now also knowing that James Bond and the quartermaster of MI6 were to babysit his children.

Q has no bloody fucking idea what he's going to do.

But he speed-read up-to-date early childhood cognitive development studies on the way there, and when he told Bond about it, the other man (shirt still covered with blood, god help him) straight up laughed at him.

“Only you.” he had said.

“Oh, excuse me, 007, but do you know anything about raising kids?”

“We’re not supposed to raise them, Q, it’s just a matter of a few hours.”

“Okay, lets focus on just keeping them alive, then. I'm not sure we can manage more than that. For fuck's sake, Bond, go change your shirt.”

“Did all those studies not teach you not to curse in front of children?”

Well, _shite_. Q was lucky, though, because at that moment, Natalie was helping her brother brush his teeth in the bathroom and hopefully hadn’t heard him.

Now, he was sitting on the grass with Connor, playing with the radio in spite of the burden on his poor ears. Natalie had actually wanted them all to play, but Connor had cried when she tried to pick him up. The look of pure horror on Bond’s face in reaction to the crying of an infant could have been delightfully hilarious, were it not also reflected in Q’s own expression.

The crying had kept going for the longest minute of Q’s life, until he found a new device in his pocket and, without thinking about it too much, gave it to the kid. Since then, it had been uneventful and un-crying-ful for about half an hour and everything was fine.

Until the moment Nat slips, falling knee-first onto the grass while she's trying to show Bond some trick she had learned with the football.

Q is quick to respond. He picks up Connor and runs outside, seeing the tears in her eyes as he gets closer.

“Hey, hey, everything's fine, let me see,” he tells her, straightening his glasses on the bridge of his nose while kneeling on the ground next to her and Bond.

Natalie nods bravely, trying to choke back her tears. Q can see the damage now, and it isn’t so bad, but there's still some blood spreading on the top of her knee.

“You are brave young lady, Natalie Tanner,” Q assures her, his own voice a tad shaky. “Do you know where you father keeps the first aid kit?”

“In the first-floor bathroom,” she mumbles. “Above the sink.”

“Bond, can you bring us some band-aids?”

Bond doesn’t reply. He hasn't moved, actually. Q turns to look at him, finding the Double-0 agent seemingly frozen in place, azure eyes fixed on the wounded skin of Natalie’s knee.

Bond has made people bleed almost every day of his life. It's like breathing for him, merged with his own nature. He has gotten himself injured and bloodied more than the human body is probably capable of sustaining. He – both of them, really – have been witnesses to the most horrible sights of gore and death without batting an eye.

But now, James Bond is completely baffled by this small child's minor injury.

Something in Q’s heart breaks at the thought.

“Hey,” he says, softly, “Take Connor, and I'll take care of this.”

Almost automatically, Bond takes the boy in his arms, still a bit stiff, but he looks in Q’s eyes. Q can read him like an open book now, which is a rare occasion, and recognizes the fear smeared over his face, in the wrinkles to the side of his eyes.

Though he usually wouldn’t do it in a professional environment (they are at work now, as far as it matters to Q), Q leans in and kisses him on the corner of his mouth, light and quick. It makes Natalie laugh, which is followed by her brother's high-pitched giggles, as he probably follows his older sister's lead in thinking kissing is funny.

Bond smiles when Q gets up, something warm in his stare.

“Keep him safe,” Q tells Nat, who salutes in return. “James is not a fan of blood.”

This is the most absurd sentence to have ever come out of his mouth, but Bond is laughing now as well, so it isn’t all for nothing.

“You’re not enlisting to go to war, Q.”

“Might as well.”

Later, after all the blood has been cleaned off and the wound is patched, Natalie is playing with Connor and his new favorite toy, and Bond stands next to Q, passing him a glass of water as Q keeps his eye on the two from a distance.

Q's breathing is still a bit out of place, but Bond’s steady hand on his back is helping. “You're actually not so bad at this.”

Q snorts. “I don’t think I've been put to a real test yet.” He looks at Bond, his gaze unreadable as usual. At least this is familiar. “But I do believe we can keep them alive for the next couple of hours.”

Bond nods. “Maybe if we feed them, they’ll fall asleep. Minimizing any risks.” Bond sounds like they're planning an operation. Q realizes they might as well.

“Brilliant.”

“I’ll make pancakes.”

Q couldn’t hide the look of surprise even if he wanted to. “I thought we said we weren't going to kill them.”

Bond shoves him lightly on the shoulder. Q laughs. Bond surprises him by stealing a kiss, warm palm on his neck, before departing toward the kitchen.

Q actually has no idea how they're going to make it, but he assumes that, just like it always did when it came to deadly scenarios, they’ll figure it out together.

If not, they have Nat, who is apparently more capable than the both of them combined. She is also better at football, and all of MI6 is going to know about it tomorrow morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to storm_of_sharp_things for reading and supporting.


End file.
